


Inhale ɘlɒʜxƎ

by actualsatan



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drugs, Dubious Consent, M/M, Revenge Sex, Self-Harm, Sex, Toxic Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-12-23 23:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12000309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualsatan/pseuds/actualsatan
Summary: Jiyong is very sick and Youngbae can't help him anymore





	1. The Galaxy and the Sun

_Inhale._

He did. 

He inhaled around the cigarette between his lips, feeling the smoke burn his throat as the nicotine made small synapses in his brain connect, telling him he's satisfied. 

_Exhale._

He did. 

He exhaled the pale grey smoke, opening his eyes to watch the cloud slowly rise and evaporate in the cold autumn air.  
He took the cigarette between his fingers, picking out his mp3 player from his pocket, pausing it to stop the calm female voice from uttering anything else.  
He put his mp3 back in the pocket of his night gown, wrapping it tighter around himself.  
He hated these guided meditations but he couldn't stop listening to them either. Maybe it was some sort of self harm, torturing himself into the oblivion of boredom until his entire mind was a white, cold room, not a single thought or emotion anywhere.  
He hated feeling as much as he normally did, his brain never shutting up, a million thoughts and ideas train wrecking around inside his skull, enough to make him unable to do anything but scream when it got really bad.  
He still preferred the train wrecks over the screaming silence that came with guided meditation.  
He slid down against the rail of the balcony he was standing on and pressed play again, crossing his legs, resting his hands on his bare thighs that peaked out when the nightgown slid open.  
He forgot the cigarette between his fingers as his mind started to slow down and get brighter.  
He closed his eyes and relaxed, the cigarette dropping down on his thigh, burning him. He felt the pain bolt through his body but his brain didn't connect the pain with the cigarette so he let it be as he fell into his trance like state. 

 

“Jiyong? Jiyong!”  
When he came back to reality he was freezing so much his entire body was shaking.  
“Jesus fucking Christ, are you trying to kill yourself?!”  
Jiyong looked up at Youngbae and he couldn't really connect the words to his actions so he didn't say anything at all as Youngbae wrapped an arm around his shoulders and helped him up to get him inside.  
“This can't go on, Jiyong…” Youngbae's voice was a mixture between annoyed and scared and Jiyong felt a little ashamed.  
“What if I hadn't come? How long have you been sitting out there? An hour? Fucking….” He trailed off and Jiyong stayed quiet as he was being loaded into the shower.  
“You're going to die if you keep being this reckless.”  
Youngbae's voice was softer now and he gripped Jiyong’s face between his hands and looked into his eyes.  
“I worry so much about you,” he said, and Jiyong was sure he wasn't imagining the tears glistening in Youngbae's eyes.  
“I don't want to lose you…”  
“I'm sorry,” Jiyong whispered and Youngbae sighed softly, letting go off Jiyong's face to remove his night gown.  
“Sit down, I'll make tea for you and you can heat up in the bath. I hope to God you don't get pneumonia or some shit. Jiyong it's 7C° outside, I understand that you need to smoke but first of all, wear more clothes, and second of all, don't fucking meditate on the balcony wearing close to nothing!”  
Youngbae lectured him as he turned the taps of his bathtub, and Jiyong flinched at how hot the water touching his blue feet were.  
Only now did he pay attention to his feet and they were really turning blue. He checked his hands and they were doing the same thing. He didn't even want to know his face looked, but he could imagine.  
“Blue lips, blue veins,” he hummed as the lava disguising itself as water was burned his skin, eating away centimeter by centimeter. He didn't look after Youngbae as he left, he just stared at his feet and legs being covered in the clear lava and the more he stared the more he was sure the liquid was burning his skin away. He was certain he could see his skin tear off and float around in the bathtub and he felt like he was going to faint.  
“Youngbae” He called for his friend, but he wasn't sure if he was yelling or whispering. Either way, Youngbae came back and Jiyong teared his eyes from his severed legs to meet Youngbae's gaze.  
“The skin on my legs is burning off.” He said all choked up, but when he looked back they looked like normal again. Youngbae looked as well, but he thought they looked normal too.  
“Jiyong, you're just imagining things. It burns because you're so cold, the water is not even that warm,” Youngbae ensured him and went to fetch him his tea.  
Jiyong swallowed. If Youngbae only knew what things Jiyong imagined he'd probably be scared for real. Jiyong never talked about his hallucinations. He knew they were just that, hallucinations, so why bother telling Youngbae about them? He'd just be more worried and feel helpless because that's what Youngbae do. Even if he can't do anything about something, somehow it's automatically his fault. Like all the times Jiyong has done drugs or hurt himself, with his own will, Youngbae blamed himself every time. Eventually Jiyong stopped telling him. Tried his best to protect his friend from his pain and his twisted mind.  
That's why Jiyong doesn't tell him about he hallucinations.  
Today is no different. He doesn't tell Youngbae about the amphetamine he had shoot up with yesterday. Or the day before that. He doesn't tell him that he hasn't slept for like seventy hours, unless the guided meditation counted as sleeping. He doesn't tell him that he had almost dived off his balcony into the concrete several stories below, because the wet ground reflected the street lamps in a way that resembled water and the more he stared the more inviting it looked.  
And that was just since the last time they'd met.  
There’s a lot he doesn't tell Youngbae and if Youngbae knew he'd be both hurt and angry, but Jiyong doesn't want to burden him. He doesn't care about anyone like he cares about Youngbae. He should probably appreciate him more, but it was hard when he never knew how. 

Youngbae came back with a cup of tea and two sandwiches on a tray which he placed on the corner of the bathtub before turning off the taps.  
“I've got something to tell you,” he said, sitting down on the toilet lid, crossing his legs.  
“But you have to promise you won't get angry at me.”  
He didn't avert his gaze as he normally did when he expected Jiyong to get angry, but held it.  
“Okay…”  
Youngbae swallowed and closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if to gather strength. When he opened them again, his eyes were on fire and Jiyong was sure he was going to leave him. Tell him he's had enough and that he never wants to hear from him ever again. Jiyong didn't know how long he was quiet for but he felt like he was going to explode.  
“I called a psychiatrist,” Youngbae eventually said. “And he agreed that you should go there. To work on your problems. I think it would be good for you to get professional help.”  
Jiyong stared at him, unsure if he had heard it right.  
“What?”  
“Jiyong, it's only for a while, can we at least meet him together just once? It might not be that bad to talk to someone.”

Jiyong sighed softly and averted his gaze from Youngbae, staring at his sandwiches instead.  
“You know that I dislike psychiatrists…”  
Jiyong said as he looked up at Youngbae again, and he really did. He hated to talk to someone he didn't know about his problems, knowing it wouldn't help him at all. If anything it made him even more sick, his brain telling him that he was dragging the person he was talking to down in the shit. His brain told him that he planted his sickness on the other, twisting them too. It made him paranoid to talk to professionals.  
When he was sensible he knew it wasn't like that but when he was sensible he was never in the need of a psychiatrist.  
He sighed again and looked away from Youngbae.  
“Fine, I can meet him, but if I don't like him I won't keep seeing him.”  
Youngbae also turned away, and Jiyong looked back at him. He got the feeling Youngbae hid something from him, but then again, he often thought the worst about people. Even Youngbae. 

 

Jiyong slowly heated up in the bath and it wasn't until he started to shiver from the water having turned cold that he realized he wasn't freezing to death anymore. He had finished his sandwiches and tea and Youngbae was cleaning his apartment for him. Sometimes Youngbae was the mother he never had. Most of the times, actually.  
Jiyong stood up and pulled the plug, grabbing a towel as he stepped out of the bathtub. He was careful not to slip, because he was starting to feel that he hadn't slept in three days as he was suddenly fed and taken care of, the amphetamine starting to wear off.  
The nausea hit him like a train out of nowhere and he just barely managed to turn around in time to throw up in the bathtub. Youngbae came rushing and firmly started to pat his back until he was done.  
Jiyong groaned and turned to the sink, spitting and rinsing his mouth.  
“I want to sleep. What time is it?” He rubbed his face and sat down on the toilet lid, making a lame attempt to dry his hair.  
“It's barely ten am,” Youngbae said. “When was the last time you slept?” He asked cautiously.  
Jiyong laughed inside his towel tent.  
“When was the last time you were here? Except now?” He asked and peaked out from underneath his towel.  
“Sunday, why?”  
“And today is Wednesday?” He asked and continued to lazily dry his hair.  
“Friday. Jiyong?”  
Youngbae sounded worried and Jiyong swallowed.  
“I think I slept a while on Tuesday because the sun was too bright.” He said.  
“Tuesday…? That's three days ago.” Youngbae paused. “Ji… Are you using again?”  
Jiyong didn't respond so Youngbae grabbed his towel and roughly pulled it from his hands.  
“Is that why you've been acting so weird lately? Because you're back on the drugs?!” Youngbae sounded upset and hurt and Jiyong cursed himself for not lying.  
“Look at me and answer!” Youngbae raised his voice and Jiyong met his eyes. He shrugged and Youngbae's hand came flying, making a hard impact with Jiyong's cheek.  
“Curse you, Kwon Jiyong! You promised me!”  
Tears spilled over, running down Youngbae's cheeks and he angrily wiped them away.  
“Please tell me it's not heroin again,” Youngbae's voice was barely a whisper and Jiyong looked up to meet his eyes.  
“No,” he said and he already knew the next question before Youngbae even opened his mouth.  
“What is it?”  
Jiyong looked down at the floor. He could lie, tell Youngbae it's nothing. Coffee. Anything.  
“Meth,” he mumbled, too ashamed to look at Youngbae.  
The noise that left Youngbae was barely even a whimper. He squatted down, hiding his face in his hands.  
Jiyong didn't know what to do as Youngbae cried, he just sat there on the toilet, nervously glancing at him, and then looking away, trying his best to not disassociate. Youngbae's crying grew louder as the amphetamine wore off more and more and Jiyong couldn't take it, his ears was ringing and he felt like his brain would explode.  
He stood up, stumbled past Youngbae and managed to get into his room, slamming the door shut after him with more force than he intended. Jiyong had two options, either shoot up more meth and fuck up his life even more or try to sleep despite the withdrawals getting worse. He dropped down on his bed, hiding under his pillow, trying to choke himself either into silence, sleep or death, whichever came first. 

He must've passed out eventually because he woke up in the middle of the night, his digital clock initiating it was 03:33 and he groaned because his eyes hurt. All of his head hurt, as did his back and the rest of his skinny, distorted body. He scrambled out of his bed, coughing a little as he stood up. He grabbed his night gown which had been neatly placed on the chair beside his bed. He thought about Youngbae, he should thank him for helping him but then he remembered that Youngbae probably hated him right now. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. He should give Youngbae some time. 

It wasn't until he opened his door he heard the sounds. At first it made him extremely paranoid, someone was in his apartment. Then he realized one of the voices belonged to Youngbae. He was still here? The paranoia didn't go away though because there was someone else there, and he didn't recognize the voice and he stood there in his room with the door barely open as he tried to register what was happening. Youngbae was talking in low murmurs and the other voice was just humming. Jiyong was positive he was talking about Jiyong. Telling whoever was there what an awful person he was. He opened the door a little further and took a careful step out.  
It sounded like the voices came from the living room so he steered his steps that direction, ever so carefully tiptoeing over the floor. It was fairly easy because he was sober now.  
He wished he never had gone there. On his sofa was Youngbae, naked and sweaty with a muscular man between his legs. He was clinging onto his body, both legs and arms wrapped tightly around him as he stroked his hair, murmuring things in his ear. The one Jiyong didn't know who he was was also naked and he was fucking Youngbae slowly, so painfully slowly, but he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.  
Youngbae watched Jiyong, met his eyes, and he didn't move a single muscle, except the hand that kept stroking the brown hair.  
“You’re such a good boy,” he mumbled, eyes still locked with Jiyong.  
The back that was turned against Jiyong had scratch marks all over it and Jiyong knew he shouldn't be jealous, but he was. It should be him fucking Youngbae into oblivion, not some random dude he had never seen before.  
He couldn't turn and walk away. He stood there in the door opening to his living room, watching how Youngbae was fucked. Watching Youngbae watch him, knowing he didn't care if he hurt Jiyong.  
“Daesung, I'm so close,” he groaned, minutes later, his eyes still locked on Jiyong's. If it had been any other circumstance Jiyong would've been hard and ready to join, but now he was just hollow and hurting.  
He watched how Youngbae scratched at the muscular back as he was getting ready to release, and he watched how the other sped up ever so slightly and then Jiyong couldn't watch anymore. He turned and walked away, not caring if this so called Daesung heard. He just had to get away from Youngbae's voice, groaning and whimpering as he released.  
Jiyong couldn't stand it. He just couldn't.  
He wondered when they had become like this. Intentionally hurting each other and then taking care of each other just to go back to hurting each other again. He hated it.  
He wondered if Youngbae hated him or if he was just paying back for the drugs. If he had been Youngbae he was certain he would've hated himself. 

He sat down by his kitchen table, finding his cigarettes in the pocket of his night gown. He opened the pack, stared at the remaining cigs for what was probably several minutes before sighing heavily, dropping the pack on the table, rubbing his eyes with his wrists.  
He really wanted to shoot up, but he didn't want to do it with Youngbae in his apartment. He got… Out of control when he was high. He definitely didn't want to hurt Youngbae, even though he was both pissed and sad at him right now.  
He picked up the pack of cigarettes and took one out, placing it between his lips.  
As he lighted the cigarette he heard steps coming towards him and he definitely didn't want to talk to Youngbae right now so he lowered his gaze and stared into the table, taking deep drags of his cigarette.  
“Oh, uhm, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were awake…”  
Jiyong's head shot up from the table in a second and landed on a naked, muscular man.  
“Who the fuck are you?” Jiyong asked even though he didn't even want to know, voice saltier than the Dead Sea.  
“I’m Kang Daesung.. This is kind of awkward. I'm seeing Youngbae sometimes,” Daesung was awkwardly covering his crotch with his hands and Jiyong rolled his eyes and blew out smoke as he looked away from Daesung to stare in front of himself.  
“Whatever. Take what you need, there's beer in the fridge. Maybe some coke. I doubt there's any food though.”  
Daesung swallowed loud enough for Jiyong to hear it across the kitchen.  
“Coke..?” Daesung was sounding worried.  
“Coca Cola?” Jiyong looked at him, voice unamused, then he let out a tiny laugh.  
“Of course I mean fucking cocaine, I'm sure Youngbae has told you everything.” 

“I’ll be fine with water, thank you.”  
Jiyong didn't look at Daesung when he awkwardly went to presumably throw the condom and get two glasses of water. He did look at his ass when he left in silence, though.  
He finished his cig after only a couple of minutes and decided to light a new one when he for the second time within the few minutes of sitting in the kitchen heard steps coming towards him. This time it was very certain steps, storming towards him like a whirlwind. When Youngbae entered his kitchen he realized it was more like a tornado of anger and betrayal than a whirlwind.  
Youngbae stopped to stare at Jiyong, his chest heaving as if he had trouble breathing and then he stalked up to the fridge and ripped it open, eyeing the few discarded items.  
“Where’s the coke?” Youngbae didn't turn to look at him, and Jiyong didn't answer. He sat back in his chair and puffed at his cigarette like a locomotive. He could see his tracks ending and he was speeding towards it.  
“WHERE IS THE COCAINE, KWON JIYONG?!” Youngbae roared like an angry lion and slammed the fridge shut, turning to stare at Jiyong.  
“I don't have fucking coke,” he said, not sure if Youngbae would buy his lies.  
“Even if I had I wouldn't tell you where because you'd flush it down the toilet.”  
Jiyong met Youngbae's eyes briefly and then looked back down at the table, he couldn't handle Youngbae's disappointed eyes piercing him.  
“You're fucking unbelievable,” Youngbae said with a laugh that wasn't amused at all.  
“I wasn't going to tell you, but you weren't meant to meet Daesung here so I can tell you anyways.”  
Jiyong looked back up at Youngbae.  
“He's a nurse at a psychiatric ward, they also have a rehab. I wrote you in. I'm sorry Jiyong, but I can't handle you anymore. You destroy me,” Youngbae wiped his eyes and Jiyong felt everything and nothing at the same time.  
“I'm not going to a fucking psychiatric ward,” he laughed in disbelief, wishing that Youngbae was joking.  
“You don't have any choice.” Youngbae's voice was like iron, hard and cold.  
Jiyong glared at Youngbae and Youngbae glared back.  
“Why do you hate me, Youngbae?” Jiyong asked and stubbed out the cigarette on his arm without even thinking of it until the pain hit him like a train and he flinched and looked down at his arm, at his burnt skin as he placed the butt in the ashtray, Youngbae looking away from Jiyong hurting himself.  
“I do everything but hate you,” Youngbae said and looked back at Jiyong.  
“I do this for your fucking sake, because you've gotten worse. I don't even know if you know it but you're a risk for yourself! I don't want to come home to you and find you dead because you did too much drugs or accidentally slit your wrists because you wanted to know what it felt like or fucking fell asleep on the balcony in the middle of the winter!” Youngbae's voice was so pained and Jiyong's little heart ached and he hid his arms with numerous scars under the table.  
He didn't reply and then Daesung came back into the kitchen, dressed this time and Jiyong looked away from the two, sitting there staring in front of himself with his arms laying motionless in his lap. He knew he probably needed to be locked away to not hurt Youngbae, and God knew he hated to hurt Youngbae.

“Well, let's go then.”  
Jiyong stood up and turned to the taller one, apparently named Daesung, wrapping his nightgown closer around him.  
“We're not leaving now,” Youngbae said. “You're going to compose yourself enough and then we're leaving on Monday. I'm going to stay here because I don't trust you,” Youngbae continued and Jiyong sighed heavily.  
“Is he staying too?” Jiyong asked and nodded shortly towards Daesung, not breaking eye contact with Youngbae.  
“We'll see. It might be good for you two to get to know each other a little.”  
“You're overestimating my will to be nice,” Jiyong said sharply and walked past the two people in the doorway, walking towards his room. Youngbae didn't stop him.  
“I'm going out,” he called over his shoulder, slamming his door shut behind him, getting dressed to go out. His head was crammed and he needed to breathe and just be alone for a while. He was running out of cigarettes too.  
“I want your boyfriend gone when I get back,” he told Youngbae when he walked towards the door, grabbing his keys and wallet on the drawer in the hallway. He didn't lace his shoes, he just stepped into his boots, grabbing his jacket.  
“Don’t you dare do anything stupid,” Youngbae warned him before the door slammed shut behind Jiyong as he left his apartment. 

He thundered down the seven stairs to the bottom floor, stalking across the parking lot outside. He glanced over his shoulder and he saw Youngbae stand in the doorway to his balcony, watching after him. Looking back forward he tried to calm the shaking that grew more violent by each step he took. He got as far as past the parking lot and some additional thirty meters or so before the stumbled and he had to stop.  
“Fuck,” he whispered and took deep breaths. “Fuck fuck fuck.”  
He checked his jacket pockets for cig but instead he found a small package and his entire being relaxed a little. In the small package, which easily could've been mistaken for a balled up piece of plastic, were three tabs of LSD, and Jiyong breathed deeply. As soon as he found the drugs the trembling eased and somewhere in the back of his head he realized how mental his addiction was, rather than physical. He didn't have a single care as he placed all three tabs in his mouth, letting the tasteless drug dissolve for a short while in his mouth for a minute before swallowing it down dry, walking towards the store.

He lit one of the cigarettes he had bought and inhaled, starting to walk to make the drug react faster. He wanted to get home but he didn't think Daesung would be gone yet and he didn't want to meet him more than necessary.  
He walked around his neighbourhood until the ground started to swirl below his feet, colours flashing before his eyes and his train of thoughts derailed completely. He started to walk home when he was still entering the high but he got lost, having forgotten where he had walked. He ended up in the slum parts of his neighbourhood and from there he knew how to find his way home, because this is where he obtains most of his drugs.  
He changed roads, stumbling on the curb, scraping his knees and hands.  
“Fuck,” he mumbled, and stood up with a giggle.  
He continued his walk home, lighting a new cigarette with some effort, smoking as he walked harder than normally, as if to test the ground stability. Everything was spinning and he could only focus on where he placed his feet, and as he walked he completely failed to notice a door someone had left open. He stumbled on the door mat holding the door open and with Jiyong's luck he fell into the door, completely breaking the glass as he fell through it. It cut him in the face and on his hands and arms which he tried to stop the fall with. Nobody came to help him where he laid, glass pieces everywhere, blood flowing out of the wounds. It looked black in the darkness and it swirled and shimmered and he thought it was pretty. Jiyong didn't feel pain when he was high, so he just stood up, picking out pieces of glass, mesmerized by the colours, from his arms as he continued to walk home.  
He struggled with the porch door when he got home and he gave up for a while, sitting down on the steps, looking at his arms drenched in blood. It looked like the night sky and he thought about the Sun that was Youngbae up in his apartment. Of course he killed Youngbae, his friends previous words ringing in his ears. He couldn't be with the sun because his light would go out. He needed him though, and he got up and managed to get in, taking the elevator up to the seventh floor. 

When he entered his apartment Daesung was gone and Youngbae was still there. Jiyong smiled softly at him, not noticing the terror in Youngbae's face as he saw Jiyong's appearance.  
“Oh my god, Jiyong what the fuck?!”  
Jiyong snickered and walked up to the sun in front of him, pulling him in and kissing him.  
“I love you,” he whispered against the lips he was tainting with his night dust.  
“I love you so much and I have to go away so can I please have you this once? My sun, my light.” Jiyong's voice was hoarse and low and Youngbae dared not decline Jiyong what he wanted.  
“You can have me,” he said low. “But can I please take care of you after?”  
Jiyong shook his head.  
“I have to go,” he said and kissed Youngbae again. His hands slid in under Youngbae's shirt and he raised his arms, letting Jiyong remove the clothing. Youngbae glowed in Jiyong's eyes, so bright he had to close his eyes and lean his forehead against Youngbae's shoulder.  
“What have you taken?” Youngbae whispered in his ear, holding him carefully, scared he was more hurt than the cuts on his face and arms. You could never know with Jiyong. But he was standing up so hopefully he wasn't too hurt. Youngbae traced patterns on Jiyong's back, humming softly in his ear.  
“Acid,” Jiyong said softly against Youngbae's skin and Youngbae swallowed down his disappointment. He couldn't be angry with Jiyong right now. He was too fragile. And he knew how easily Jiyong could snap when he was high. Especially on psychedelics. Youngbae had learnt the hard way.  
“Are you sure you don't want to sleep instead?” He asked softly and Jiyong pulled back and shook his head.  
“This is the only time I can have you,” he said quietly and leant in to kiss Youngbae's lips again.  
“Come,” he said when they parted. 

_It was something different to make love to the Sun than what the Galaxy could ever remember. It had been too long since, only when the Moon would stand in the way of the Earth could he touch and not only look. He engulfed the burning body in his crawling whists of darkness, and the Sun allowed him to. His roaming hands soiled the golden body with shimmering black dust, glittering like diamonds in the bright glow the Sun was emitting._  
_He smiled and the Galaxy cried, weeping stars onto the golden chest and the Sun enbraced his crying form, hushing him gently._  
_When he finally filled him up he knew it would soon be over because the sun could only be with him for so long until the glow started to fade. The Galaxy was killing his love, his Sun, and the Sun gasped and writhed beneath him in pleasure as if dying was his favourite thing to do in the Universe._  
_He wrapped his arms around the Galaxy, his glow fading more and more as the black shimmering dust would cover his skin. The Sun held the Galaxy close as he was filled with darkness and he made the most fantastic noises right next to the Galaxy's ear and the Galaxy couldn't hold back and he released all the stars and the night sky deep inside of the Sun, stroking him until light shot out of his member. A final cry for life._  
_The Galaxy kissed the black smeared lips as he withdrew, the Moon already starting to saunter away from the Earth’s view and they parted once more. The Galaxy left the Sun to recover, only looking over his shoulder in the briefest way as he walked away._  



	2. We'll See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiyong tries not to feel betrayed

Youngbae was driving when they left for the clinic on Monday. Jiyong’s hands was twitching and his legs were restless, he kept shaking them up and down and he could see Youngbae's irritation, but he didn't say anything. Thankfully.  
They were almost there when they met a car in the slim road, and Youngbae slowed down for the car to drive up on the curb so he could pass, but the other car came to a stop too. Youngbae honked his horn and the other car honked back.  
“What kind of actual fucking shit is this?” Youngbae muttered to himself, waving at the driver to drive to the side. He didn't and Jiyong was losing his mind. He fumbled with the seatbelt and got out of the car like a raging hurricane, slamming the door shut on Youngbae's voice telling him to stop. He rounded the hood of Youngbae's car and knocked hard on the drivers window. It rolled down and and the driver looked over at Jiyong, unamused, quirking one eyebrow as if to ask what Jiyong wanted. Jiyong's restless mind took in everything about the man in the span of a few seconds. He was muscular, he was wearing a tight black turtleneck and black slim fitting jeans as if to show off his well built body even now when it was starting to get really cold. The most noticeable thing about him though was the hair that was almost white.  
“Look, buddy. I'm on my way to fucking rehab, so if you could kindly move your car nobody has to get hurt? Okay?” Jiyong forced himself to sound polite, his hands twitching. The blond man met Jiyong's gaze for a good while, then he smirked and traced his lower lip with his tongue teasingly slow.  
“Nah,” he said and rolled up his window, turning off his car.  
“This fucking kid,” Jiyong spat and knocked on the window again. It rolled down a second time and Jiyong's voice was colder and definitely not polite anymore.  
“Listen, I don't want to wreck your pretty face but I'm not in my best fucking mood,” he said and the man in the car opened the car door then, stepping out with a pack of cigarettes in his hands, and Jiyong backed to not get hit by the door. He kept eye contact with Jiyong as he placed the pack to his lips, picking up a cig with his lips.  
“You want one, old man?” He asked, holding the pack out to Jiyong, slamming the door shut behind him, leaning against it. He withdrew the pack before Jiyong could even respond.  
“Right, rehab. You probably shouldn't smoke then, am I right?” The blond man grinned and placed the pack in his jeans pocket, getting out a lighter, lighting his cig.  
Jiyong was furious and he heard Youngbae get out of the car, shutting his door after him, walking up to Jiyong.  
“Hey, bro, we just want to pass, please?” He said, placing a hand on Jiyong's shoulder.  
“Ji, calm down, don't work yourself up over this. Go sit in the car.”  
Jiyong shrugged Youngbae's hand off of his shoulder, and raised a trembling hand to point at the blonde man.  
“Fuck you,” he spat, and turned to the car before turning back. “I'm giving you three minutes then I'm coming out and I'm going to beat the fuck out of you.” He turned back to the car and got in, slamming the door shut with all his might. He watched the man casually smoke, glancing at Jiyong every now and then as Youngbae was trying to talk sense into him. Youngbae was too kind to negotiate with angry words and fists. Jiyong didn't take his eyes off of the blond man and when he stood tall and squared his shoulders, taking a threatening step towards Youngbae Jiyong was out of the car in the fraction of a second. His patience had dipped below the bottom and when the blond kid threatened his sun he saw red. He had wanted to hit the kid since he saw that shit eating smirk and now he couldn't stop himself. He used brute force to shove Youngbae out of the way as he launched a hit at the blond’s face with a tightly clenched fist.  
“Your time is fucking up,” Jiyong growled and grabbed the front of the turtleneck. The blond groaned in pain, but Jiyong was sure there was something sexual hiding underneath the moan because the man didn't hit back even though he was obviously stronger than Jiyong. He was taller and he was probably twice Jiyong's size in muscle mass. But he took it without lifting a finger. Jiyong didn't blame him, all addictions were addictions and maybe this dude had something for being beaten. Jiyong didn't care, as he grabbed a tight hold of the blond hair, tugging him down as he lifted his leg, kneeing him in the face. As his head came up again, blood was streaming down the blond’s face, Jiyong had split his eyebrow. By then Youngbae had recovered enough from being shoved aside to grab Jiyong from behind and pull him away from the blond, who was hissing and bracing himself against the car.  
“I'll remember you,” Jiyong warned him. “If I see you one more time, fucking anywhere, I swear I'll bash your head in,” he threatened as Youngbae held his struggling form in a tight grip.  
“Jiyong that's enough,” he roared and Jiyong hated when Youngbae raised his voice so he did his best to calm down.  
The blond gave up a heartfelt laughter.  
“I'd like to see you try, Jiyong,” he said, emphasizing Jiyong's name as he got into car, blood still pulsating down his face.  
“The name is Seungri, by the way,” he said and licked blood off of his lower lip before closing the car door. Jiyong was trembling violently as he watched the blond start his car and round Youngbae's, speeding away.  
“Let's go,” Jiyong said and broke free from Youngbae's grip.  
“Jiyong we're going to talk about this and you know it.”  
Jiyong turned around and got back in the car, buckling his seatbelt, putting his feet up on the dashboard, as if to hide. Youngbae got into the car as well and sighed softly, shifting to look at Jiyong.  
“Ji…”  
Jiyong looked out his window.  
“Jiyong, look at me.”  
“No.”  
Youngbae sighed again and shifted back to start his car.  
“I'm sorry I couldn't take better care of you,” he said, buckling his belt as he started to drive again.  
“Don't..” Jiyong started, still refusing to look at Youngbae, but Youngbae cut him off.  
“I'm not sure why you never tell me what you feel, but if you talked to me more we wouldn't have come to this.”  
Jiyong shifted in his seat again, placing his feet back on the floor.  
“I told you, it's not about you.. You always blame yourself for every fucking mistake I do, but it's not your fault, Youngbae, it's not.” Jiyong's rubbed his face, trying to calm down, but the twitching was getting out of hand.  
“Can I smoke in the car? Just, this fucking once, please?”  
Youngbae sighed once again and rolled down the window on Jiyong's side and he sat up a little straighter.  
“Thank you,” he mumbled and got out his pack of cigarettes, taking one between his lips. If he was unlucky it'd just make him crave more, but he'd managed to be sober for over 24 hours now, he could manage some more. He had to. He didn't have any choice. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and held the smoke until his chest started to ache and his head felt light. Only then did he exhale the pale smoke, watching it get sucked out through the window. He relaxed a little and sighed softly. He didn't look at Youngbae and Youngbae didn't say anything else. 

Meeting Daesung again was as dreadful as Jiyong had imagine it would be. He had this attitude like Jiyong wanted to be there, and it pissed him off. He replied to his warm welcoming with a glare and a “hello”, then turned the other way. Youngbae placed a hand on Jiyong's back and firmly guided him inside after Daesung.  
The rehab and psychiatric clinic wasn't exactly that Jiyong had imagined, but he refused to warm up to it. It was spacious and not as sterile as he had imagined it would be.  
Checking in didn't take long, he just had to sign a paper that he agreed to be hospitalized and the initial time was just one month, and then they could lengthen the visit in case of need. Jiyong could handle one month. He'd done better by himself before.  
He hesitated to sign the papers anyway, but Youngbae placed a firm hand on his shoulder that probably looked encouraging to the rest of the world, but to Jiyong it felt like the weight of the world pushing him down, smothering him. He knew he had to do this and he signed the papers with a sigh.  
“Thank you,” Youngbae said softly, his voice light as if he'd just transferred the weight from himself onto Jiyong. 

Youngbae didn't stay for long, and Jiyong felt a wave of betrayal as he followed Youngbae with his eyes from the window of the room he'd been assigned to. He watched him walk across the parking lot, up to his car, and he watched how he got into it and he expected Youngbae to just drive away but he didn't. Jiyong focused his eyes and he was almost sure that Youngbae was crying. It pained Jiyong more than anything to see Youngbae cry, he hated it.  
He sighed and sat down in the armchair in the corner by the window instead of standing up, curling up on himself.  
He started to bite his nails, just to occupy himself with something and by the time there was a knock on his door and he came back to reality he had chewed down all his nails to the point of bleeding and he sighed and pressed the palm of his hand to his face, rubbing one eye. It knocked again and he called out a “come in” a little harsher than he intended, but he certainly wasn't in the mood to meet Daesung.  
It wasn't Daesung who entered his room tough, but a petite brunette, her hair in a high ponytail.  
“Hello Jiyong!” She said brightly, carrying a tray with tea.  
“My name is Sandara, it's nice to meet you,” she said and Jiyong smiled a little.  
“You too,” he said, not being very talkative.  
Sandara put down the tray on his desk and then came up to him to shake his hand, noticing his chewed down nails.  
“I'll clean you up,” she said softly and walked to get disinfectant and surgical tape. Jiyong kept hissing as Sandara cleaned his wounds, pulling back at the stinging pain, but Sandara kept snatching his hands back.  
“Stay still,” she scolded him gently with a small smile and Jiyong sighed.  
“But it hurts,” he complained.  
“I know,” Sandara said and looked up at Jiyong's face, meeting his eyes.  
“I know, I also used to bite my nails,” she said with a chuckle and Jiyong couldn't hold back a small smile. He liked Sandara, way more than he liked Daesung.  
She taped the tips of Jiyong's fingers and then left him with his tea and a promise to bring nail polish for him tomorrow, so he could stop biting his nails.  
Jiyong realized when he walked up to his desk that both the cup and the spoon was made out of plastic and he rolled his eyes because it was kind of pathetic, but then again, he knew what drugs did to you. He hadn't done heroin in quite a while, but quitting heroin was way worse than quitting cocaine or even meth.  
He sat down on his bed with the cup of tea, crossing his legs. He wondered what the fuck he was supposed to do here for a month. He had been here for an hour or so and he was already restless and bored to death. He sipped the tea and wondered if he could force himself to fall asleep. He knew he was allowed to smoke here, so that was at least something good in this shit.  
He sighed when he finished his cup of tea and laid down on the bed, placing the cup on the chair beside the bed. 

 

Jiyong had been at the rehab for a week, and everything was going pretty okay. His physical withdrawals had calmed down and gone back up like a roller coaster and it was so much harder here than not doing drugs at home.  
His seventh day was a chill day, he didn't have too much withdrawals and he wasn't craving drugs too bad. Youngbae had only visited him once during this week, and he had never felt lonelier. Abandoned. Like Youngbae was going to leave him here forever.  
He went out to grab a smoke, taking a walk around the fenced area with his guided meditation going in his EarPods when he saw a familiar face, but not in a good way. He felt anger bubble up in his body and he started to tremble. _Relax your body._  
“Why hello Jiyong,” the voice belonging to the blond man came.  
Jiyong kept walking, ignoring him.  
“Hey!” He called out again, and Jiyong stopped and turned to face him, taking out one of the EarPods from his ear.  
“Seungri, was it? Leave me the fuck alone,” Jiyong spat, smoking his cigarette with trembling fingers.  
“What are you smoking?” Seungri asked with a devilish grin.  
_Roll your shoulders, relieve the tension._  
“None of your fucking business,” Jiyong shot back, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension.  
“Is it hard?” Seungri kept asking him questions to make him stay and Jiyong knew better than to stay but for some reason he didn't leave. He stood there, watching Seungri outside the fence.  
_Relax your jaw._  
“What the fuck do you think?” Jiyong scoffed and put out his cigarette against his wrist, a habit that died harder than the drug abuse.  
Seungri looked obviously uncomfortable with what Jiyong did and placed a hand on the fence.  
“Don't do that,” he said. “What are your addictions?” He continued.  
“Why do you ask? You gonna get me a fix or what?”  
Seungri shrugged.  
_Try to close your brain from excessive thoughts._  
“I might have something to help you,” he said and that devilish grin was back on his face.  
Jiyong looked confused and took a step closer to the fence.  
“What do you mean _help_?” Jiyong's eyes narrowed, and the little fucker replied by taking out a joint from his pack of cig.  
_Find a breathing pattern that feels natural._  
“I don't know if you should smoke,” he said with a chuckle, “but I can imagine it would be easier to deal with heavier withdrawals,” he continued before he lit the joint, blowing the smoke in Jiyong's direction.  
_Let the air fill your lungs and then slowly release it._  
Everything in Jiyong’s body told him he should leave and don't even look back but he was so angry at Youngbae and at Seungri and at himself for letting getting into this situation in the first place. So instead of leaving he took another step closer.  
_When you feel like you have your natural pattern were going to deepen it._  
“I'm not allowed to touch drugs when I'm here or they'll raise police charges against me..” Jiyong said. Seungri inhaled around the joint again and waved Jiyong in, and when he closed in seungri reached through the fence and grabbed Jiyong's jacket. He pulled him flush against the fence, pressing his lips against Jiyong's, blowing the smoke into his mouth. 

_Inhale._

And Jiyong inhaled. All the way down to the bottom of his lungs and then he kept the toxic smoke there, feeling it calm him better than ever. 

_Exhale._

And Jiyong exhaled. Blew the smoke in Seungri's face, looking at him through the fence, his mind calm and relaxed, and he knew he should hate himself but he couldn't bring himself to do it as he was getting ready for a second share of smoke. He inhaled against Seungri's lips and nothing else made sense then the blonde man with a bruised cheek and a split eyebrow. Jiyong kept the smoke in his lungs longer this time, waiting until they started to ache before he released it slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Seungri's.  
Then he kissed him, grabbing onto him through the fence, desperate for physical contact.  
“I hate you,” he sighed one the kiss broke. Seungri grinned and took another hit of the joint, sharing it with Jiyong.  
“Thank you,” he said and licked his lips in that sleazy way he had done when Jiyong first met him. “You cool for now?”  
Jiyong shrugged and exhaled.  
“Sure,” he said, backing away from Seungri and the fence. “When do I see you again?” He added as Seungri put out the joint. Seungri shrugged back.  
“We'll see,” he said with a grin and started to back away from the fence.  
“Maybe tomorrow?” Jiyong chuckled. Seungri chuckled back.  
_“We'll see.”_


End file.
